


Spare Key

by bluesquints



Category: Iron Fist (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood Kink, Consensual Sex, Dissociative Identity Disorder, F/F, Femslash, One Shot, Oral Sex, POV Third Person, Porn with Feelings, Season/Series 02, Shower Sex, Walker with references to Mary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 09:29:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15946547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesquints/pseuds/bluesquints
Summary: “You came,” says Joy, her voice small for fear of it breaking.Walker takes her in and smirks. “You called.”





	Spare Key

“I need your help.”

 

“Give me thirty minutes.”

 

“You know where the spare key is. Let yourself in.”

 

After a brief phone conversation and little hesitation, half an hour passes with the clicking of a deadbolt. “Joy?” Walker voices into said woman’s seemingly vacant apartment. Although she’d frequented the place recently and as such, knew what repose the luxurious loft offered visitors, It was now all too quiet and too still that it seemed altogether quite unnatural.

 

There was an empty bottle of rosé abandoned on the island countertop, among a few drops of blood scattered around a broken glass.

 

She calls for Joy once, twice more until she hears “In here.”

 

Walker follows the voice and turns into the bedroom to find Joy on her bed, legs tucked up against her chest, her knuckles white from the too-tight grasp she had on the comforter, upon which there was blood as well.

 

“You came,” says she, her voice small for fear of it breaking.

 

Walker takes her in and smirks. “You called.”

 

It had gone a few small hours after midnight when she received the post-breakdown call from the billionaire who had been her client. Walker could detect a faint trace of fear and sorrow behind the prudent mask of composure. She knows Joy well enough to know that her inscrutability is only as strong as her desire to hide behind it. If she could hear it waver, it meant Joy was too far gone to care.

 

“What’s wrong?” The phrasing might’ve seemed all too familiar but they’d never let that stop them before. After all, Joy was one of the few people who knew both Walker and Mary and hadn’t run from either. Instead, their partnership started not with fear but with Joy staying and choosing to trust her. “Tell me,” Walker hopes she still does.

 

Joy meets her eyes, the brightest blue rimmed with an angry red. She’d been crying.

 

Walker didn’t need to know Joy all that well to know there was only one person who could cause that wounded flare in her eyes. “Your brother.”

 

She nods and sobs threaten to overtake her body.

 

Walker hasn’t moved from her position at the threshold, stunted by the discomfort of the situation. She thinks that Mary would know what to do. She’d comfort Joy, far better equipped for these emotional affairs.

 

Joy must feel the tension in the air between them because she sniffs, wipes away her tears and chuckles nervously. “I’m sorry I bothered you. It was stupid. You can go.” There was no heart in the reassuring smile that followed. It was gone.

 

Walker should be on her way out by now. She was told to go and those words effectively freed her from any obligation to do so much of anything. On any other night she would. If it were any other person, she wouldn’t have shown up at all.

 

But this was Joy Meachum. The woman who had contacted her for a job, discovered her mental instability, experienced the very same first hand and still looked upon her with such pure trusting faith. She had kept her word in spite of it all and such loyalty wasn’t a dime a dozen.

 

A decision is made and Walker is stepping further into the room and closer to Joy. “You’re bleeding.”

 

Joy shrugs, staring down at her wounded hand. “Apparently so.”

 

She’d pity her if she didn’t seem so strong in that moment. “Come on,” Walker urges, gesturing toward the en suite.

 

“What?”

 

“You said you needed help,” and she’d be damned if she ignored the nagging fact that she truly wanted to.

 

Joy seems reluctant at first but relents easily with little encouragement. When she stands, her thin, floral robe slips open to reveal the skin between her breasts and toned midriff. She was dressed for bed, or rather more accurately undressed with nought but the robe and lace underwear protecting her modesty.

 

Walker’s gaze lingers longer than it ought to, following her as she leads the way into the bathroom.

 

Joy settles down on the rim of the tub, her hand ready for inspection. Walker takes it in her own, and ignores the heat rising beneath her skin. “It won’t need stitches, just a thorough cleaning.” And no sooner is she raiding the cabinet for supplies for just that.

 

The oddly tender nursing passes in subdued silence and both women find they are glad of it. Joy because she doesn’t want to talk about what led to the shattered wine glass and Walker because she doesn’t care to discuss Ward Meachum when all she wants is to touch his beautiful sister - less clinically and more intimately.

 

“There,” she presses the gauze square softly against the cut. “Better?”

 

Joy’s gaze and thoughts are elsewhere, drifting off back into the pit of misery Walker had found her in. “Not really”

 

Walker wouldn’t be able to explain why in the days that followed, but it pained her to see Joy hurting. Arguably, she hasn’t seen her in any other state, having been plagued with her decision to destroy her childhood best friend of late, but tonight seemed different. The pain seemed deeper, darker - final. The empathy she felt urges a need to comfort in Walker and unlike Mary, there’s only one way she knows how.

 

She makes another decision then and throws caution to the wind. She cups Joy’s face within her hands and kisses her, full and on the mouth. Its soft and deliberately slow so that Joy might take the opportunity to return it.

 

She doesn’t and Walker pulls away, feeling more rejected than she could’ve anticipated. The insecurity slips in between the tiles on the walls but her expressions asks, “how about now?”

 

Joy’s eyes are fixed on hers, considering the depth of the gaze. Mouth slightly ajar in surprise. When she purses her lips, Walker prepares to be dismissed.

 

Instead, a kiss draws her back in.

 

It’s deeper with an added sense of urgency and desire the tentative first had lacked.

 

Soon they’re up on their feet and Walker is guiding Joy against the tiled wall of the walk-in shower with hands pressed to hips. Their mouths finally break apart and the fairer haired of the two drops to her knees, descending Joy’s lithe body, seeking her core.

 

Walker’s mouth tastes the skin of her breast, her belly and hipbone. Her hands drop lower still to her thighs, stroking, opening, teasing until she hooks her fingers into the fabric of the underwear and yanks them off.

 

She doesn’t dare steal one last glance up at Joy’s face but her hand splays against her stomach while the other holds her by the hip. Her mouth starts on the opposite side, her lips pursing softly, faint whispers against Joy’s skin, urging barely audible gasps from above which compel Walker todrift lower, deeper.

 

Joy doesn’t seem to know what to do with her own hands until Walker suddenly grabs one of her legs and sets it over her shoulder, giving her better access. Joy’s hands settle rigidly against the wall behind her, palms crushed to the cold marble; a contrast to the heat growing between her legs.

 

Walker’s lips have moved to the inner thigh she holds against her neck. They form not into kisses but leave a wet trail with her tongue, edging inwards. It’s all Joy’s body is crying out for and it’s more than she can stand. She arches her back away from the wall, pushing her groin towards Walker, demanding satisfaction.

 

“Are you certain?” She asks, peering up at the brunette.

 

“Yes,” Joy hisses with even less hesitation than Walker’s decision to pick up the phone, because she has scarcely room to move away, and it leaves her in this position; pinned and undone; exposed and honest, bared to Walker’s scrutiny and just simply fucking grateful that she is.

 

Walker’s hot breath sends jolts up Joy’s spine, coiling at the nape of her neck until finally and at last, she feels tongue against tender flesh. Lapping, nuzzling, humming, sucking and nipping to devour the very last of the agonies from within. She was here to help, after all.

 

When Walker opens her eyes, mouth still attached to Joy’s centre, she sees blood on the wall by her hand.

 

“Don’t stop.” Joy commands, her bloodied hand coming to rest on her chest before sliding downward to her pubic bone. There’s a trail of blood smeared down Joy’s torso and Walker thinks it’s an invitation.

 

Testing that theory, she stands up and levels her face with Joy’s, whose eyes have become impossibly darker.

 

They speak volumes.

 

With words rendered moot, none are exchanged before their lips meet once more, carrying them back into the bedroom and onto the bed where they edge long and come hard several times over until dusk gives way to dawn.

 

It’s coming up to midday when Walker shifts awake beneath the covers.

 

Both women slept on their front with Walker’s arm hung over Joy’s back, her hand curved around her shoulder. Sheets are forgotten and tangled below their hips, along with their inhibitions.

 

Joy wakes minutes later to find Walker out of her bed and buckling her belt. Their eyes meet in an accidental collision of gazes they’d both hoped to avoid.

 

“I’ll put your key back where I found it,” Walker declares as she nods and heads for the exit.

 

“Wait...”

 

She stops but doesn’t turn.

 

The words “keep it” and the sultry, reassuring voice that delivered them has Walker leaving with a smile and returning later to find Joy’s.

 


End file.
